Ladylike
by taiyou
Summary: I have this weird tendency to update for no reason. Actually, your comments help :D Lily Pendragon gives our tomboy a few lessons in acting like a lady. Let’s play dress-up with our ice cold maiden, shall we? Two birds–I mean boys, are totally dumbstruck.
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

Author's Note: Yes, I'm alive, and I still get randomly pulled at the heartstrings when I see this uncontinued fic. It has so much potential, I feel, and I never feel I deliver enough. For those who might have checked this fic on the off-chance a new chapter was put up, thank you for coming back! I've re-edited the first few chapters because I started this a few years back (how many?) and I saw a few flaws I thought I could edit, and did.

My contribution for the many fans of Percival and Chris.

Disclaimer: I don't own Suikoden. I love it and am a sucker for the three most famous Zexen knights, but no, I don't own them, nor anything else Suikoden-related.

The six legendary knights of Zexen sat together, alone in the common room, conversing as old friends do. It had been a few months after the final battle, and the Grasslands was still in shambles after the second Firebringer war. For that time they had been extremely busy helping the people get back on their feet. Miraculously, all but a few days-off had been spared for them, to rest before they restarted their grueling rounds across the country. It was a simple pleasure for them to reminisce the days of the war, for it had indeed been memorable.

"And remember when..."

The knights laughed heartily, even the stony Chris, who rarely found herself as relaxed and at ease as she was now. Everyone's eyes were focused on their victim, Percival, whose laid-back expression was game for the jokes to be thrown at him.

"Hey, don't look at me! Lady Chris deserved the break."

A snort. "No matter what you say, you virtually kidnapped her! That time...What were you thinking? Taking her to that indecent—"

Chris tensed. She suddenly knew where the conversation was headed. "Don't call it that, Borus. I think Iksay is quite a lovely place."

"No need to defend me, lady," Percival answered smoothly.

Leo scoffed. "Defend him? Percival nearly attacked Sir Nash when he thought he was flirting with— "

Percival's cool slipped a little. "I would never attack a comrade who defended my– defended a village of Zexen, let alone help Lady Chris and I."

"Jealous?" Roland asked nonchalantly.

"Really, Roland..." Chris trailed off. Percival briefly winked at her before turning to the elf.

"My dear Roland," Percival sounded surprised, "I would never have thought a highly elf like you would resort to human taunts!" He raised his eyebrow as Louis giggled. "And you, Louis, I wager you enjoy my squirming?"

"Alas, he is again trying to change the topic," Salome chuckled.

"Et tu, Salome!" Percival pretended to sound hurt.

"You were jealous...weren't you?" Borus persisted, perhaps a little more seriously that the atmosphere of merriment allowed.

Percival coughed lightly. "...Of course not, Borus."

Borus arched a blonde eyebrow in response. "So tell us then, why did you kidnap Lady Chris and try to keep her all to yourself?"

"Now, now, Borus," Salome said.

"Yes, it's very obvious," Borus said airily, "that you are besotted with Lady Chris."

Percival paused, slightly taken aback.

"Well of course, everyone is besotted with our silver-haired maiden. She's legendary, especially in stealing the hearts of men and women alike," Percival said, calmly. "Don't _you_ agree, Borus?" he shot back.

Chris flinched inwardly. _Silver-haired maiden? Legendary? _She indistinctly heard her fellow knights' laughter and Borus' stutters, but she couldn't listen to what they were saying. Hearing those words from Percival suddenly made her feel distanced from everyone in the room.

"Aren't you talking about yourself?" Borus retorted, a little blush coming to his cheeks.

"Or maybe you were just after Sir Nash?" Leo chuckled, turning to the dark-haired knight. "What's your type then, Percival?"

Percival laughed a little too easily. "My good knight, I'd prefer a sweet, ladylike lass, needing protection by her knight in shining armor."

"Typical." Roland raised his eyes up to the ceiling.

"Yes," agreed Leo, nudging Percival in the ribs. "That's Percival– the ladies' man."

"Then you are saying..." The silver maiden's voice was soft, "That I am not ladylike enough?"

A long silence ensued.

Chris Lightfellow looked away. None of them had really ever found out why Percival had been so defensive that time in Iksay Village, and it had turned into a sort of running joke among the knights that he was jealous and had feelings for their captain. And maybe, her silence served as a hint that she, too, was curious to know, if...

She wished she hadn't heard his answer. Did people see her as the warrior with silver hair and cold eyes? An unfeeling, untouchable beauty that could never be conquered, perhaps? And sexless. She had never been bothered by the fact; she didn't even care if that was what other people thought of her. But among her very knights, her friends? When had they stopped seeing her as a woman and more as a fabled myth? When had her hair looked anything other than regular ash-blond to Percival?

"I apologize," came the quiet reply. The Swordsman of Gale looked only at her. She could feel his sensitive, dark eyes on hers, but she couldn't look his way.

"...And... Milady is wrong in thinking so; she is the finest woman I have ever laid eyes upon." And then, as if he were covering up what he had just said, "Or anyone in this room has met, for that matter." A mumble of agreement followed.

No one said anything for a while.

"If you'll all excuse me."

The door shut quietly behind Chris.


	2. The Very Solemn Oath

CHAPTER 1: THE VERY SOLEMN OATH

Disclaimer: I don't own Suikoden III or its characters. I'm doing this only for entertainment purposes. Oh yeah, the flashback idea comes from 'In the Hand of the Goddess' the second book of the Song of the Lioness Quartet series by Tamora Pierce. (The chapter when Alanna gets her first time of the month. It's really funny. )

_A sweet, ladylike lass._

Chris Lightfellow absentmindedly wandered the gray corridors of the castle. She knew

she shouldn't have walked out of the room and spoiled the good time they were having. She shouldn't have reacted so belligerently and she shouldn't have so been hard on Percival. She would apologize, she told herself, but the thought of it made her feel flustered. _How?_

It had been so easy before, she would have simply taken him aside and mumbled an apology. He always understood. But at one point in time she had begun to feel a little queasy around the gallant knight– with his gentle, knowing eyes, and quiet voice. And when he teased her. She mentally shook herself.

It had been so easy. To tell him anything.

She remembered, when... Out of the blue, she remembered. Her eyes laughed at that, at her embarrassment and at Percival's kindness during that time they were both knights-in-training.

It was a cherished memory that had the habit of resurfacing during the most inappropriate times.

A young page-in-training, Chris had one day fallen asleep after an exhausting day of sword practice. For some reason she had been cranky the whole week, and many people backed off when they saw her glaring eyes swivel towards them in anticipation to tell someone off. Most of the jokes about her small frame and tomboyish nature were kept to a minimum as she stormed through the training grounds and viciously pummeled the other pages during practice sessions. She was a remarkably more temperamental than usual and the other pages, and maybe even the squires and knights, knew that this was hardly the time to goad her.

------------

She woke up that morning with blood staining her linen sheets. Amethyst eyes wide with horror, she looked for the source of the blood.

_Where in the...?_

"Goddess..." Her face blushed crimson. The blood was coming from that... place. The secret spot from between her legs. She nearly fell out of bed, frantically smoothing out the sheets to find out that it was fresh blood mingled with dried. She noted, bewilderedly, that she felt not a slight of pain, even if it was coming from... there.

_Stop thinking about… that, and find out what's wrong!_

Her mind worked furiously. Healer. A healer. She needed a healer to find out just what was wrong and... But whom would she go to? She panicked. It was too early to stroll down Vinay del Zexay Square parading in red stained clothing and trumpeting out the source of her distress. If she went to a castle healers that would just be begging them to tell the whole world about her predicament! Chris wadded up the dirtied sheets, stuffing them into the laundry. She quickly washed herself, ridding her body of blood, and, taking a roll of bandages from a cabinet she wrapped herself in between her legs. At least that would take care of the bleeding.

Her mind raced. Now who could fix this? Who?

"Why not..." she breathed.

Percival. Some of the tension in her left. Why hadn't she thought of him? He was a healer; he would know what to do. And her secret would be safe with him. The Goddess knew, along with every other lass that was old enough to ribbon her hair, that he was a magnet for attracting women. They would fawn over him, and he would receive them a little too courteously, and he had a growing reputation for being a heartbreaker, but she trusted him. He had kind eyes and was her good friend. Mind made up, she swiftly exited her room and made way down the hallway.

BANG! BANG!

"What in the name of Sadie-!"

BANG! A muffled sound.

Percival had just been abruptly shaken out of his meditation. He was too surprised to be irritated at receiving a caller so early in the morning. He wondered briefly if that Bellatrix girl who had been flirting with him the night before had come to get a good peek of him while he had just supposedly got out of bed.

_You'll have to try earlier than that to see me in my loincloth_, he thought, smirking. He then laughed inwardly. What was he thinking? He supposed the women always around him were starting to make him feel cocky. And that wouldn't do. If he got too arrogant Redram would definitely kick his behind due to his lack of concentration.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"Yes, yes. Hold your horsies."

_Horsies? _He shook his head lightly. He was a common country bumpkin to the core, and he wasn't likely to forget it.

_BANG! BA-_

Percival opened the door mid-bang, just for good measure. And there was the young page Chris, closed fist flying out because of the sudden encounter of air when she had expected solid door.

"Whoa there!" Deftly catching the smaller figure, he steadily placed the lass upright. "No need to go red in the face, Chris," said Percival pleasantly, amused to see a tinge cross the younger girl's face.

"You must eat a ton of food everyday, with what you weigh. I'd wager a pillow of goose-down feathers would suffice for your weight," he said, talking as if he always caught flying visitors so early in the morning. He then made himself look a little more serious. Though she was making a truly comical face, the silver-haired girl looked extremely distressed. And not much distressed Chris Lightfellow. Not unless it came to dancing with men. He hid a grin. That would not help right now.

"Come in, lass, you look distraught." Percival smiled a little. He had always had a sort of fondness for the page. Maybe it was because neither of them felt at ease with the stuck-up nobles with their social calls and gatherings. For Percival's part, he didn't like it because of his roots in his hometown. He had grown up differently from the other noble-born boys from rich families that lorded over the peasants. At some point they were too haughty and condescending for his taste. They looked down on him when they couldn't find a drop of blue blood in his veins. But he was grateful not all nobles were so snooty, and Chris was proof of that.

"Chris," he called gently. The girl was frozen on the spot he had placed her.

Chris nodded stiffly. She looked cautiously left and right, and then rushed inside, a flurry of silver hair. Percival closed the door soundly behind him, and when he turned around she looked frightened but determined. _What was going on?_

"Percival..."

"I hear you. What's wrong?"

He saw the violet-eyed youth take a deep breath. "I need your help," she spoke quickly, "I trust you and I know you're a healer and I woke up today and there was blood on my sheets and when I looked for the source—" It all rushed out–

"—it came-from-between-my-legs-it-won't-stop-bleeding-but-it-doesn't-hurt-much-either-I-don't-know-what-to-do-I-can't-go-to-the-healers-and-I-need-your-help," she finished, rather out of breath.

Percival listened, mouth slightly ajar. He blinked. Perhaps he was trying to get meaning in her jumbled words. A sound suddenly issued from deep within his throat, and soon he was chuckling. The chuckling soon became a deep belly laughter and the brown-haired boy had to sit down on his bed before he fell over laughing.

"So... you can fix it?" Chris Lightfellow's voice sounded small.

"Lass," he started, but then his soft brown eyes crinkled up again in mirth and he clutched his stomach while his chuckles subsided. Chris heard a soft mutter of "she wants to fix it, by Sadie..." while he laughed quietly.

With all the excitement out of her, Chris was starting to feel a bit irritated that the cause of her distress seemed so funny to the older boy. "What?" she demanded.

"You see," he explained good-humoredly, "Chris, you're becoming a lady."

"I've _been_ a lady to begin with," she snapped, rather crossly. A faint tinge of pink was starting to show up on her delicate features. Percival grinned apologetically, the kind smile that made women swoon, but he was not to know that.

"Of course you have, Chris. It's just that you're..." he trailed off, eyes widening, suddenly faced with the prospect of explaining something... embarrassing for a boy to tell a girl.

"I'm... what? Boyish?" She glared, misunderstanding.

"No, Chris! You're as ladylike as it comes here in the castle, and —really, you are! — it's just that… the reason for your blood flow is..." It was his turn to shade slightly. Percival Fraulein's glib tongue suddenly found itself dry.

Chris smiled inwardly. She decided he looked better that way. Percival seemed to read her thoughts. Raising an eyebrow, he coughed lightly, still blushing. "Alright. It's... your time of month." He fumbled for words when no dawn of comprehension graced the girl's face. "You know... when women reach... ah, a certain age, they get... well, um, changes in their body." He blushed heavily at that. _Smart boy_. He mentally smacked himself.

"One of those changes are when they are..." _Oh, for...! _

"—old enough to bear children, and they get what people call their time of month, or red flag, or monthly visitor, etcetera, etcetera," he tried to show no visible expression, but his face possibly reddened with each different term.

Chris nodded and stared, but Percival caught the slight grin. "Anyway," he rushed, "like people call it, it usually only happens once a month. It's perfectly normal to be getting it, and about the only thing you can do is wait for it to stop."

"So..." Chris began slowly, "How long does it last?" She was taking things rather calmly now, but Percival wanted to bloody change the topic. He was uncomfortable as it was. "Er… A week, maybe? I don't know." _I've never bloody gotten one before now have I?_

"Percival...?"

"…Yeah."

Chris looked uncomfortable. "Is it okay," she paused, "if you keep this a secret?"

The blush seemed to be subsiding. "Let me tell you something," he looked at her thoughtfully. "When I was five years old, I had a terrible, terrible dream." Chris stared, and Percival grinned.

"—And I peed on my bed. My mother was so furious that I ruined her newly-washed sheets that she locked me out of the house in my diaper. I kicked and screamed, bringing the whole... everyone storming in to find a boy bawling his lungs out beside a spotted sheet blowing in the clothesline. I'm pretty sure they could guess what had happened." Chris grinned at Percival's sheepish face. But she wondered why he was telling her this.

He solemnly raised his fist to his chest. "I give you my oath that I will not tell anyone of your secret, so I give you my own secret in exchange. Neither of us will divulge each other's lest we bring shame on ourselves for eternity and beyond. He paused grandly, just for effect, and clasped his fist to his chest. "Most of all, because of this, we will be bonded, by this oath that is not to be broken, and forever share a part of each other," Chris smiled and followed Percival's action with equal gravity.

"I solemnly swear it," Chris said.

"I solemnly swear it," he agreed. A delighted silence ensued, because somehow the two were closer.

The sun wasn't even peeking over the horizon.

It was Chris who broke the silence. "Well... thank you, Percival. No doubt I'd be floundering around had you not explained to me about…" She trailed off and left it at that. She received a wry grin in response.

"Well, Chris, now that you're a lady I presume I must walk you to your room?" Percival held up a hand in his best gentlemanly way, eyes turning mischievous. Chris playfully smacked him upside the head. Brown eyes laughing, he hauled her up amidst her protests. "I take that as a yes. Let me take you there then, milady! I'll be as gentle as you are?" He dragged her along. Laughing, and maybe blushing a bit, Chris made a mock attempt of kicking her aggressor.

"Unhand me, you scoundrel!"

Their laughing voices echoed down the hallway, early in the unbroken morning.

A smile touched Chris's lips, briefly.

It was so easy, then. _Why not now? Why not, Lady Chris?_

_She is the finest woman I have ever laid eyes upon..._ Amethyst eyes widened. The Gale Swordsman's voice seemed to seep into her soul. His teasing hints, his playful jokes, his guarded face and his dark, unfathomable eyes. They held something.


	3. Borus' Sorry Ash

CHAPTER 2: BORUS' SORRY ASH

Author's Note: Just for the heck of it, I've posted it to make me feel waffy and all… After, what, ages, just like the last time? I continue out of the blue and I'm out of my mind, just like the last time. I hope I'm not forcing it –actually, I know I am, these are fillers. And my writing's probably deteriorated, and I don't remember anything about Suikoden anymore, I'm off my rocker, and I'm probably *goes off ranting*

Author's Note Again: The stupidest pun ever, which I will incorporate in my story because I'm dying to.

Disclaimer: I don't own Suikoden, or its characters, or its plot, or its Karayan griffins… you get the point.

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"You really blew it this time," Borus clunked his flagon on the table. The waitress came once more, refilling the empty mug. She left, eyeing Borus' drink warily. He glared at her to scare her away, and then turned his attention to the slumped figure from across the table.

"I said you blew it this time, you really blew it," he repeated loudly. He received silence in response. The noise of the tavern was at a lull, so it was impossible that he had not been heard. Percival had been the one to play the fool, but Borus couldn't understand why he was the one drinking the inn dry. He plowed on obstinately, despite the warning signs –the tensed position, the clouded face, the coal black eyes of his friend. It told him the Gale Swordsman was not in the mood to be harried. But he couldn't be ignored like that.

"You always knew how to tease the women who caught your fancy," Borus said under his breath, "and the one time there's the possibility this infatuation might actually be–"

Percival's eyes glittered. "_Ash_, Redram. I could do it again."

There was a sound of a thump on the table and a wooden chair abruptly scraping the floor.

"What was that?!"

--------------------------------

It was the first time that the pages would be allowed to attend the ball under the squire status. Though they would still be serving drinks and food to the guests as they did before, they could now mingle with the guests. They had talked about it for weeks, and prepared to wear their minted formal uniforms for the first time. It was the day before the ball, and everyone in the palace, not just the squires, was looking forward to it.

"–Why can't I go in my squire's outfit?" The young Chris Lightfellow stood firm and resolute, dirty and sweaty from the end of sword practice. She even managed to ask in an even voice. Only her closest friends could really tell she was brimming, but given the situation, the rest of the novices could well imagine the thoughts churning in her head. The other squires tried to hide their reckless grins as they imagined the staid Chris, who was practically a boy, touting a pink, ribbony sort of outfit and prancing about in voluminous skirts.

There was no way were they going to miss this ball.

The squire Maddock poked her not too lightly in the ribs and whispered theatrically, "Wouldn't like to be called a lass, now would you, Chris?"

What little prudence remained vanished as most of the boys started snorting. By this time a few of the other knights and squires in the training hall had edged closer to find out what the laughter was about.

"Enough," the training master held up his hand to silence the puckish boy along with his friends. "It is required for a lady knight–" the term earning sniggers from the rest – "to wear the appropriate garments that express her maidenhood."

It was amazing how he had said this with a straight face. The boys, much less discreet, laughed outright. Some of the other knights had joined in while looking fondly upon the 15-year-old squire, not unaware of the legendary Chris Lightfellow's Aversion to Girlish Behavior. A few remained silent to spare the poor girl of embarrassment. Needless to say, Percival regarded the whole thing contemplatively and Borus blushed like a fool. Roland the elf, a few meters off but within definite earshot, remained expressionless as usual, and continued to polish his longbow with apparent disinterest.

The duke looked a little amused, and perhaps a little sorry as he regarded the silver-haired girl in front of him. "It's not the least bit embarrassing. In fact it is considered ill-mannered for one not to dress fittingly for this occasion." He seemed to add consolingly, _for this or any other occasion_.

"There are times that one must dress like a warrior," he instructed gently, "and other times, when one must dress to socialize." Chris remained adamant-looking.

"But Your Grace– "

"Squire Chris," the duke threw his hands up in the air, "–don't make this harder on yourself. You may not wear your squire's outfit because there will be _dancing_." The other squires howled with laughter. Some of them were dying on the floor.

Chris Lightfellow covered her face in her hands.

-----------------

The taunts never seemed to cease that day.

"Hey Chris! I heard about what you're wearing to the ball–"

"You'll look ugly no matter what, you know!"

"Come now, Chris, it will be a good change… You're often too…"

"Girls don't look good in armor anyway, they should wear dresses and stay at home."

"Hey, would you like to dance with me?"

That hit a nerve. Chris swung around, silver braid whipping the air. She was about to yell at whoever had the gall to make such a barbed remark –when she caught sight of twinkling brown eyes. Percival's smile vanished instantly when he saw her face.

Chris colored violently. She was shaking terribly. "You– of all people– I would never have thought–" she said furiously; she was so angry. It was like her heart was clenching, and the hurt she felt the whole day came flooding into her so that she was shaking violently. She hardly realized that the tall boy had covered the distance between them and stood right beside her.

Her first impulse was to punch him with all the force she could muster. But she caught sight of his eyes. There wasn't a hint that he had been joking at all. There was concern, but all she saw was that it could have been sympathy. Something was trying to register in her mind; she was being unreasonable because of the unfairness of it all. She shoved the thought away.

"Chris…" His voice was quiet.

She looked fiercely up at him, her eyes blazing.

"_It's not my fault I'm not a boy!"_

Her ringing voice would have silenced a crowded hallway. As it was, they were the only ones there, and the silence that followed throbbed in their ears.

"Chris, look at me," Percival said. He laid his hand gently on her shoulder. Chris looked up; his eyes were overbright. "No one's asking you to be a boy," he said softly. "I wasn't teasing you –I meant what I said. I want to have the honor of escorting you to the ball tonight."

For a moment it looked like Chris was too stunned to speak. Then all the anger inside her dissipated. She realized Percival was doing this so she wouldn't have to endure all the teasing alone. He acknowledged her gender, and as no one else had done and accepted it. Her lips broke into a small smile. She had brought this all on herself, after all, making such a fuss about not being able to wear her squire's outfit. It wasn't that she hadn't wanted to wear a dress, really. She just hadn't wanted to be left out by all the other boys.

"All this talk about my wearing a dress has gotten to me, hasn't it?" she asked ruefully, slowly slipping back into her normal countenance.

"You'll look lovely in a dress."

"Wh…what?"

"I was merely musing," the older squire averted his eyes, but the twinkle in it had returned. The comment was so ridiculous that Chris reached over to smack him upside the head. She had to tiptoe to do it.

Something suddenly occurred to her in that tiptoe.

Percival was handsome. Not in the girlish sense (which she detested, everybody knew), but he was really, really attractive… Chris blinked. What was she thinking? This was goofy, corny, peed-in-the-bed Percival… To think of a comrade in such a way… Chris shook her head, clearing her thoughts. _Unthinkable._

"You don't have to be that kind, Perce," Chris laughed. She looked over her dirt-stained clothes and blew the wispy bangs over her face.

"Hey, I meant it," he protested. He mussed her hair a little more, despite her protests.

She suddenly felt grateful that she would be going with a friend to a social gathering she knew who would hate just as much as she did. At least they could keep each other company and make fun of all the nobles. Really, she was making a bit deal out of everything –_what harm could a dress do?_

"Percival?"

"I hear."

"What's that on your arm?"

"Oh, a bit of ash."

"Where did you get that from?"

"I totally owned his ash, too," Percival chuckled, a little too gleefully.

Chris raised an eyebrow. She knew better than to make ends of the statement. That's how things were, sometimes.

"Percival?" They walked down the corridor together.

"Mm."

"I don't know how to dance."

"Well, my dear, you're learning tomorrow night."

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"They can't make her wear something she doesn't want to!"

Borus aggressively heaved a heavy sack of ash from the fireplace, tying it up into a knot. He dragged the poor bag ruthlessly to the side of the tower with a stormy expression on his face. _THUMP_. Percival watched him and shrugged, mimicking the former's actions with his own sack. He really didn't think there was much to be done about the situation. Nobles were ridiculous and they had absurd rules, and knights simply had to bend to their trifles to keep them happy. Not that such reasoning would appease the blonde youth, much less make him understand; the latter was, after all, nobility himself. Besides, it wasn't a terrible thing (well, maybe for her) to see her fine form in a fine dress; Percival hadn't tried to bother lying to himself and acknowledged that he would be pleased to see her like that. The thought would eventually occur to Borus in a while, and Percival decided to cheer the younger boy up by letting him see this point instead.

"So, she's wearing a dress. As long as she ignores the gaggle and keeps her head, she'll excel as she usually does." Percival tossed his sack in with the last. Borus spluttered.

"Excel? In wearing-!?" _Bingo_, and Redram caught on, a fact evidenced by his blushing and apparent attempts to hide it. "Yeah," he mumbled, but there were a few inches now between the bag he was carrying between the ground. _thump_.

"And if she feels uncomfortable," Percival encouraged, "we'll be there to show her we don't care what others think, either." Borus looked up and smiled, agreeing to that as well. They worked in comfortable silence after that, in a pace which went along much faster since Borus had stopped scraping the bags through and consequently tearing holes in them.

"You never cared much about what the other nobles thought, have you, Percival?" Borus observed, "Considering that no one's ever been able to figure out exactly from which noble family you are. I'd think I'd be conscious of others all the time, trying to impress them –trying to show them I'm worthy of bearing the title of a knight." Percival smiled.

"You know I don't really like nobility," Percival said, and laughed when he saw Borus frown, "—of course, you're completely unobjectionable, my friend. But it's always been my dream to become a knight, and I've worked hard for it, and I'm going to earn it. I love my country, and if I can be able to protect Zexen and the ones I love with my two hands, then I would have been worthy to become a knight."

Borus' brow furrowed. "I've never thought about it that way," he said simply. "I've always known I was going to be one. It was either that or the priesthood, and I'd much rather be swinging a sword around and hitting people with it than swinging incense." Percival laughed.

"That's a much better answer than I came up with," Percival said seriously. "But don't you get to sample the best wines even when you're a deacon? We lowly squires need to hit the local tavern on what free days we have for stuff that tastes remotely like horse piss."

Borus nodded thoughtfully, "Ah yes, but you would have to sit through those unbearably long sermons and serve the wrinkly old head priests before you can so much as have a sip." Percival nodded thoughtfully before agreeing.

"At least, on holidays I get to go to my father's fief. I'll take you there sometime," Borus said, smiling. "Speaking of which, there's this special kind of grape that my father is developing," the younger boy said enthusiastically. Percival looked up with interest.

They were laughing as they usually did when no one was around them to accuse them that they actually got along well with each other. Once, Borus knocked over his sack and spilled the contents all over the floor. Which caused Percival to laugh harder. Reluctant to get a pounding from their training master, the boys got on their knees and scooped up the fallen ash. Their hands and knees were soiled by the time they were finished.

"Yes, perfectly-aged wine," said Percival, chuckling. "As they say, the more mature they are, all the more are they desirable –just like women." He laughed when Borus turned pink.

"Chris is nearing the marrying age, don't you think?" Borus spoke up suddenly. Percival raised his eyebrow.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You're in love with her, aren't you?" Borus looked at the older squire in realization, surprised he had asked the question. Percival looked taken aback.

"That's why you wanted to see her in a dress," Borus accused.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Redram," Percival said shortly, shrugging. Percival dusted off his leather gloves. "Hey, let's talk about something other than girls, shall we? Come now, I didn't think you even liked women."

"Don't try to play me, _Fraulein_, you know it, and I do, too," Borus insisted, forcefully bringing the topic up once more. "You love her."

"—And what about you?" Percival smiled, and there was a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Wh-What was that?"

Percival laughed. "Let's go, we're done cleaning up."

"I—"

"Hurry up, Borus," Percival was already on his way out of the tower. The younger boy's senses went into alarm with the thought of being left behind to watch his rival's back.

"And what if I love her too?" He spoke defiantly. It was a brash statement, but it worked. Percival had stopped in his tracks.

"A duel," Borus said quietly. "The winner takes her to the ball."

The atmosphere tensed. Borus suddenly felt as if he had crossed a fine, inescapable line. There was the smooth sound of drawn steel, and Percival turned around, his expression the same as it had always been. His eyes looked like coal.

"Alright. I accept."

Percival waited only long enough for Borus to unsheathe his sword before he charged in.

-------------

"You were actually going serious on me!"

His bottom was soiled with ash. Percival tipped his sword into his sheath and allowed it to slide back in. "And you weren't?" The older boy countered. They looked at each other silently, measuring each other once again. The swordfight had confirmed each other's suspicions.

"She'd still want us all to go together, of course," Percival muttered. "She's like that." They stared at each other a moment longer. Percival dusted his leather gloves once more and stalked out of the tower.

--------------------------------

Percival sighed as he rubbed his eyes tiredly, its harsh glitter only moments ago fading. He didn't even look up at the glowering knight above him. As if he was dealing with a toddler, he motioned for the blonde knight to sit down. Percival assumed a quieter tone. "Please, Borus. I don't need any of your noble sermons right now."

With the air of a slighted peacock ruffling its feathers in annoyance, Borus Redram scraped the wooden floor again with his chair as he grudgingly took his seat. "And why should I be quiet when your face just got blown up before the six legendary knights of Zexen?"

Borus made an impatient noise when his sharp comment seemed to fly over Percival's head. The fact remained it wasn't a matter of six but of one.

The Swordsman of Rage surprised himself by feeling sympathy for his brown-haired companion. Of course he was supposed to use this as an opportunity to get to Chris… but the man in front of him looked so pathetic it would be almost cruel.

_Come to think of it, I never actually made a move on her._ Borus groaned. And this had to be the perfect time to bring up his complete lack of initiative on the silver-haired maiden. Oh, he had been so petulantly in love with Chris Lightfellow for the longest time he couldn't even remember why anymore. Percival always seemed to know his reasons, why wasn't he like that?

Perhaps he was doing it out of habit?

He wondered about this dully, the inebriating effect of alcohol starting to swamp him. Or maybe he was a total wimp? Or that Chris was the only woman he had really been close to? Or perhaps he wanted to best Percival at another thing? He acknowledged that the last idea was utterly shallow and disgusting to even consider. _Funny thoughts when you're drunk_, Borus mused.

Or… that he admired the maiden so much he had put her on a pedestal that he couldn't, or wouldn't ever try to reach? The possibility jarred him; he sat up quickly and knocked the flagon into spilling its contents across the table. Certainly Percival noticed at all; he was staring out the window.

Irritated, Borus was reminded he had been the one to push Percival earlier that day, ruining the evening. He winced. And when Percival had valiantly tried to make amends to Chris, he had only mumbled something in agreement. What was it that he said? "Yes, Lady Chris." mumble. mumble.

He was always getting goaded for no reason. Just like that time by the fireplace. Borus felt like banging his head on the table. _Idiot._

A dull thud, and yes, he had indeed banged his head on the table. Percival slowly broke out of his reverie to look at the younger knight. When the latter's head did not rise after a while, Percival got up.

"…Borus, you fool." The knight sighed, a slight smile touching his lips, as he paid the blushing waitress for the spilt wine and his untouched drink. He gently scooped up the semi-conscious knight, who was at the moment muttering incoherently, and slung the near-dead weight over his shoulder. Out the tavern door and into the cool night.

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A/N: That was quite possibly the sorriest pun on the face of the planet. Maybe it's better that I don't mention I tried to make a pun. But hey, a story was born from it, so don't flame me for that, but for the story! :D


	4. Two Birds With One Stone

CHAPTER 3: TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE

The next day, Percival walked in on Chris as she was piling her hair up in front of a mirror.

"What _are_ you doing?" Dark eyes looked at her with amusement.

"NOTHING!" Chris yelled, immediately dropping her hands and violently shutting the door in his face.

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Chris Lightfellow looked pleading. Lily Pendragon looked at her with disbelief.

"But they simply can't make you, you're a squire!" She crossed her arms together and scowled after hearing Chris finish her story. Chris shrugged.

"But you can't stand for this, this is prejudice," said Lily, brimming. "Of all the sexist, masculine, chauvinistic acts of the Grassland noble class—"

"I don't have a choice," Chris said, resigned. "It's not a big deal, and at this point I just want to make sure I don't look like a fool," she said, rather desperately.

"Lily, will you please help me?" Chris tried to say over the girl's ranting, "And besides," she said, pausing a little. "I really… wouldn't mind wearing one…" Lily stopped raving to look at her.

"Even, just to see what I would look like," Chris said, smiling a little sheepishly.

Lily broke into a wide grin, instantly brightening. "That's great! Then let's get you in a dress at once!" She clapped her hands together in excitement.

Chris looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"Well, you looked like you didn't want to do it, so I thought I should support you," Lily said, laughing. "But since you want to wear a dress after all, then it's okay to be gung-ho about it, right?"

Chris laughed as the red-head disappeared into her wardrobe, emerging seconds later with rather ornate dresses.

"This is the latest fashion, so you'll fit in perfectly," smiled Lily. "And here –" she passed what the silver-haired girl dubiously identified as a bodice –or whatever it was that she often heard women complaining about after a particularly large feast. Chris eyed the contraption with misgivings.

"Exactly how do you…"

-------------------------

"We can tighten it one—more—notch—!"

"It's a torture device!" Chris gasped. "How am I supposed to breathe in this thing?" she asked in panic. Lily didn't answer, as she was too busy fitting the last hole.

"Lily, you're killing me!" Chris cried frantically.

--------------------------

"Stop flinching, or the make-up will smear over your face," Lily said, exasperated.

"But what is it that you're putting on my face?" Chris asked, trying to turn around to look at Lily's hand, which was holding a pot of what looked like colored soot.

"That feels sticky!"

"Chris Lightfellow, you will stop… squirming!"

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"It's too itchy, you're doing something wrong," Chris insisted, massaging the back of the dress. "Wait, this actually hurts, there's something wrong with this, I'm sure of it!" Chris looked at Lily with wide, naive eyes.

"Ah, to be broken in at such a late age," Lily muttered, looking at the silver-haired girl who seemed to be going through some sort of mild trauma.

"Alright," Lily assented, "we'll try one that's not so 'itchy'…"

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"When I'm a knight, I'll never be caught wearing a dress," Chris said savagely. "No one will make me do anything! This is complete prejudice! No one should have to wear such things!" She tried to sit down, exhausted.

"Oh, no you don't!" Lily nearly shrieked. Chris looked up, wide-eyed. "You can't sit down like that, or you'll muss up your petticoats," Lily admonished. "You'll need to spread them first – like this –yes, like –oh ho, and you are certainly NOT leaving your legs apart the way men do – honestly, Chris, for a girl you behave like such boy!"

"I'm trying!" Chris snapped back.

Lily looked at her in apology. "Let's try it again, shall we?"

"—And after that we'll see what we can do about your… walk."

"Do I walk like a boy?"

"We-ll…" Chris looked wide-eyed yet again. "It wasn't weird when you were in your normal clothes," Lily explained hastily…

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"You bow excellently," Lily noted. "But you need to curtsy like a lady."

Chris wobbled on the pair of tall shoes. "I'm going to sprain my ankle," she said determinedly. The shoes were biting her flesh. She tried, nearly fell over. "I give up," she said.

"The squire's outfit was much more comfortable," Chris said, the closest Lily had ever heard her to sulking.

Lily looked at her with, well, pity. There had to be something that could make things easier for Chris. The girl had natural beauty, so if she could only think of something that didn't necessarily follow the latest trends, but classy and easy to wear…

"That's it!" Lily cried. She dove into her dressing room, throwing dresses to the left and right of her. "I have the perfect thing!" She triumphantly emerged, showing Chris a pale, silken gown. Even Chris had to agree it was beautiful.

When Chris tried it on, the first thing she noticed was how light and carefree the dress felt, especially now that her hair wasn't tied up. The next thing she noticed was the neckline. But she felt beautiful nonetheless, and somewhat daring.

"The dress, Lily," Chris said softly, fingering the delicate fabric. "Thank you."

"It was my mother's," Lily stated simply.

"Then I can't wear this," Chris replied at once.

"Yes, you can," Lily said gently. "It's not like I have any sentimental value attached to it," Lily shrugged indifferently. "Remember? My parents really didn't care much for me, either."

Chris looked at her reproachfully. Lily decided to smile for one of the few, true friends that she had. "And I have comfortable slippers that you will find kinder on your feet," Lily said firmly, putting aside her previous thoughts. She slipped the satin slippers on Chris's feet. Chris looked at the shoes, and examined her feet in wonderment.

"They're ladies' feet," she said softly. Lily laughed again. "Wait for the final touch," she said. She was taking something from her wooden jewelry box.

The necklace simple, but it added the perfect touch. The fine silver chain was elegant, and the amethyst stone was beautifully cut.

"Lily," Chris breathed, fingering the pendant, "it's too beautiful for me." Lily laughed. She sometimes wondered whether her friend looked at herself in the mirror often. Especially _now_.

"No, it rather suits you. The outfit simply won't be the same without it," Lily closed the clasp of the necklace around the girl's neck. "Besides, that necklace has a special effect on men." She smiled impishly.

"And what effect is that?" Chris asked curiously.

She suddenly heard the sound of voices nearing the room. She heard the familiar sound of deep laughter, followed by what was unmistakably the voice of–

This wasn't happening.

"I need to hide," Chris hissed, looking around and finding there was no way to escape. There was the dressing room where she could lock herself in, but she probably wouldn't make in time. There was under the bed. There was the curtains, or more drastic –the window. Lily looked at her panicking.

"Well, it's time, isn't it? They're going to have to find out anyway." She looked a little too innocent. Chris frantically smoothed her dress and took a deep breath. She heard the voices coming closer.

"Alright, I'll go in first—" a brief knock and Percival opened the door, clad in his squire's outfit. "Lily, we're here to pick you up," he said cheerfully, before noticing there was a long-haired woman standing stiffly beside his charge. Lily was looking rather haughty as usual, but the maiden almost looked guilty.

"My apologies, lady, I didn't mean to…" He trailed off. Chris turned and looked at him, her cheeks faintly pink. Percival's dark eyes widened. He was frozen by the doorway.

"You're… in a…"

There was an impatient noise behind him. "You know, Perce, I can't get in the bloody door if you're in front of it," Borus had side-stepped his comrade and pushed his way through. "Now what's the prob—" He abruptly stopped mid-sentence.

There was a brief moment of silence.

Percival knew he was staring. Chris' hair was down and her mouth looked fuller than usual, and she was wearing a pale-colored dress made of delicate, silken material that teased him with the hint of her curves. The necklace easily caught his attention because it reflected the color of her eyes. His eyes trailed down the length of the silver chain and roved over the exposed flesh of her neck, down the dangerously low neckline from which he could see the faint contour of her... He barely swallowed.

"It's impolite to stare," Lily interjected, jolting him back to his senses. "Gentlemen are supposed to greet a lady when he meets her." She smirked slightly. Oh, she knew. Percival kept staring. He didn't feel Borus move an inch, either.

"Milady…" Percival began lamely, and quietly subsided.

"To whom are you addressing _'milady'_, sir?" Lily arched an eyebrow.

_Curse her._ By the goddess, Lily Pendragon knew, and she was truly enjoying this. Borus was of no help at all. _Compose yourself, you dunderhead!_

Percival Fraulein did not squirm when it came to women, especially not in front of the object of his affections.

He walked a few paces until he reached Chris and gently took her hand as everyone in the room watched. He lowered his head and brushed his lips against her hand. A sharp intake of breath had signaled that Borus had snapped out of his shell-shocked state. Percival felt Chris' calloused hand that had none of the lacquer the other ladies of court wore. It made him smile.

"You look quite pretty, Chris," he looked up at her and winked. He commanded himself to look only at her eyes. "The dress suits you." Her full lips had turned up into a smile of relief.

It was too much. Her eyes were twinkling, and it had caused his gaze to catch the light of the amethyst stone and again stray down, far too down –with great, heroic effort he reluctantly forced his eyes up again to meet hers.

"Why thank you, Percival," she said, completely unaware of the fact the two men in the room were struggling to compose themselves. Borus stepped forward. "You look very good!" he said fiercely. Chris smiled wider. "And thank you, Borus." The tension in the room broke, and everyone laughed.

"Lady Lily, Lady Chris, may I have the pleasure of escorting you to your destination?" Percival stepped back and did a bow, Borus following suit.

Lily Pendragon smiled at the two. _They'll do. _She watched the silent battle between the two over who should offer his arm. She coughed loudly.

Percival looked at her, his eyes glinting. She purposely ignored it. She cleared her throat.

"Something wrong?" Percival looked at her pointedly, but she smiled sweetly back at him. He sighed.

"Of course, Lily, may I have the honor?" He proffered his arm to her, which she graciously took. He looked at her as if a great chance had just passed him by, and he looked so forlorn she almost felt bad for him. Actually, she wanted to cackle madly. Borus looked at the two triumphantly.

"If you don't mind, then… Lady Chris?" Borus offered his hand, which Chris took just the way Lily had instructed. Lily smiled with pride.

As they made their way through the castle gates, Lily still caught the two boys sneaking glances at Chris, and quickly turning away when she looked at either of them. She wondered whether the whole castle knew except the three that both boys were completely besotted with the silver-haired girl.

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Lily looked at the dejected Chris almost in wonder. _Did that girl really think her dressing up had no effect on them?_

"Something wrong?" Lily prodded gently. She shut the door behind her as the Percival and Borus were out of earshot.

"All that dressing up made me tired," Chris said.

Of course, that wasn't the actual reason. She had worked so hard to look _good_, and when she had shown herself to Percival and Borus they were completely nonchalant about the whole deal. They were surprised, to be sure –but she somehow, she had been looking for something else. Percival complimented women even when they were wrinkly or had too much make-up on, so when he told her she looked pretty she was sure he was simply being the gentleman.

Borus looked more shocked than anything else. Was she not even as good-looking as the last lady in court? She thought she had looked pretty good. Chris sighed in frustration, feeling her self-confidence starting to waver. Maybe she really wasn't cut out to wear a dress.

What had she been expecting, anyway? She knew she liked it that that they kept their image of her as a fellow knight-in-training (and didn't start thinking she was some girly-girl – she would flounce them the minute they thought that), but she had really wanted them to notice – just this once.

She shivered, remembering the feeling of when he had kissed her hand, and she had felt his lips smile.

_You look quite pretty, Chris. _Her heart fluttered when he had said that. Until she remembered with annoyance that he said such things to every girl he met, probably even the scullery maid. Chris wanted to smack herself for being so inane, for dressing up, for wanting people to see her in a dress. She would change back into her old reliable breeches and tunic and maybe in the process go back to her usual self, and then work herself dead until she forgot this whole affair.

"Since you're staring off into space," Lily prompted, causing Chris to snap out of her reverie.

"Sorry," Chris said, sighing again and becoming quiet once more. It was Lily's turn to sigh.

"Don't worry, they noticed," Lily said reassuringly. Chris jerked her head up. Though she couldn't see her face, Chris was sure Lily was smiling. "Trust me," the red-head laughed, "They really liked it."

"How can you tell?" Chris asked incredulously, completely baffled that Lily was in such a jovial mood. Her friend really thought it was a success. But Chris knew how men acted from being around them too long, and success could be measured by how many times a man looked at a woman's body rather than her face. Men did not act like gentlemen when they pursued their amours. Confident men, and that included knights who were quite sure of their manhood, usually went straight for the kill. Boys were even more rowdy, and very, very straightforward.

"I can tell," Lily chortled, "Because it's very obvious".

"What are you talking about?"

"You really can't see it, can you?"

"They never even looked at me after the first time," Chris exclaimed, "—and Percival, he never –"she caught herself and colored slightly.

"—He never what?" Lily eagerly leaned over her shoulder, eyes gleaming. Chris blushed crimson and became mute.

_Wasn't that stupid dress cut low enough?_

"Nothing," she mumbled.

--------------------------------

What probably happened to Chris later that night:

Percival gently grasped her arm. "So you're a lady after all," he said, his voice soft. Chris turned to glare and tell him she had heard the comment, but was caught off-guard by the look on his face.

"Of course I'm a lady, Perce," she tried to sound stern, but his eyes were looking at her too intensely. He smiled and reached for her pendant, fingering it. Chris couldn't look away from his eyes. He leaned in closer and examined the stone –he was so close that she could smell him. His voice sounded husky.

"I was lying a while back," he said quietly, "you don't just look pretty, you look damn beautiful—

Chris jolted awake from her dream.

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A/N: Yes, I had fun writing this.


End file.
